The Gift
by TigressDreamer
Summary: Summertime is here and with it brings a plethora of celebrations for the residents of Sombreville. With three holidays on each other's heel and life added to the mix, peace and quiet is a precious gift. (Sequel to The Memory. Rated to be safe.)
1. The Gift

**Disclaimer for the entire story: Sadly, I do not own Strange Magic, although I do have the DVD that I play once a week. I also do not own the song whose lyrics appear briefly. All names and places are coincidental.**

**Late again...*sigh* Oh well! It does have Independence Day in it, so I'm not too late. Constructive advice is appreciated but please refrain from criticism. Enjoy!**

Marianne can't contain her laughter as the pranksters run away screaming as their planned paintball attack is thwarted. Dozens of water balloons pelt them as the Sombreville kids put their snowball throwing practice to use from their hiding place along the low stone walls of Foret Lodge's pavilion.

The pavilion occupants cheer the horde of proud children as the last soaked troublemaker disappears from view.

"I think this might be the start of a beautiful tradition," A.C. laughs as the kids relinquish their ammunition and rejoin their families. "Good thing Janice overheard them making plans and Marianne suggested water balloons."

"Sombreville may have its snowball wars but where I grew up, it isn't summer without a water balloon fight," Marianne remarks.

"At least those troublemakers waited until the Flag Day picnic before they tried pulling their pranks," Bog comments. "I was worried that they were planning on doing it during the flag retiring ceremony but I guess they're more respectful than they act sometimes."

Marianne shakes her head with amusement as Bog bows courtly before her and offers his hand as Jake rings the dinner bell. Seven months of knowing each other, six months of being in a serious relationship, and seven weeks married and he still acts the ever-doting gallantry-inclined and positively loving man. As if she needs another reason to adore her husband.

"I can't believe you guys actually burn American flags," Sunny murmurs as they walk toward the buffet tables. "I thought that was the highest form of disrespect or something."

"It's not really the act that is disrespectful but the attitude behind it. Burning the flag during ceremony is actually the highest form of respect and considered the proper way of retiring a tattered, worn, or un-prideful flag," A.C. explains. "Second proper way is burial within a sealed box but that's seen as a bit more disrespectful since it can lead to the flag being soiled."

"Is this all you do for Flag Day? Replacing worn flags with new ones and burning the old ones," Sunny questions? "I mean, I've heard of Flag Day before but I've never seen it being celebrated or anything."

"We also have the picnic," A.C. points out. "It's one of those lesser celebrated holidays, more of an observance than anything. Which is kind of a pity since it is technically a day to celebrate the American flag's birthday. A legitimate excuse to throw a party and most people let the day slide on by."

"Almost like how some people celebrate their own birthdays," Sunny grumbles.

"Oh, hush," Marianne chides. "I don't need a birthday party. I feel spoiled enough with all the attention I've been getting this year."

"You should be spoiled," Bog murmurs, kissing her hand. "Besides, Dawn was complaining to Maya that you refused a birthday party last year and the past two years before that."

"Don't try to deny it," Sunny warns, smirking as Marianne glares at him. "You stayed in The Blacktop Butterfly the entire day and threatened to call the cops on anyone who showed up without a car to be worked on or an appointment. Including me and Dawn!"

"What about him? I didn't even know about his birthday until months after it," Marianne complains, pointing her free hand at Bog. "Pick on him, too!"

"They do that every year," Bog grumbles, thumbing back to his laughing brother. "I got lucky with those two off to Europe last year. It's not easy being born four days before Christmas."

"It's far luckier than being born on Friday the thirteenth," Marianne mutters. "Besides, it's the fourteenth and therefore, no longer my birthday. Can we please let the matter drop?"

"You, Bog, the horses, and the dog disappeared all day yesterday. Dawn is severely disappointed in you," Sunny growls.

"She'll get over it," Marianne cackles. "Where is she anyway? I haven't seen her, Mom, or Dad since the ceremonies ended."

"I told them that I finished the furniture for the baby's room and they wanted to go see it, as well as the new garage since Dawn hasn't seen it yet," Bog answers. "Maya went with to make sure that Dragonfly won't have a problem with them being there when we aren't."

"But why didn't you go with them, Sunny," Marianne asks?

"I'm good here," Sunny smirks.

Marianne glares at the shorter man and grows suspicious as his smirk only grows. She can count the number of all the times Sunny failed to be intimidated on one hand and still have fingers left to count. The guy is just too good-hearted to like anyone being upset. Not that she used that to her advantage or anything...not much, anyway.

"I know that look. It's my look and I perfected it. So don't play cute, kid," Marianne warns. "I may be almost four months pregnant but I can still whoop you. What are trying not to gloat about?"

"I'm supposed to keep you from wondering about their disappearance long enough that you can't escape the inevitable," Sunny remarks, walking around her and grabbing a plate.

"What are you...Bog! You promised," Marianne whines, looking up at her unrepentant husband! "I don't want a birthday party."

"It's not a birthday party," Bog reassures, kissing her forehead. "They didn't tell me what they planned but everyone swore that it's not a birthday party."

"Who's everyone," Marianne questions suspiciously?

Laughter is her only answer and with a groan, she accepts the plate Bog hands to her.

* * *

"Tell me," Marianne demands!

"But then it wouldn't be a surprise," Dawn laughs.

"And surprises are fun," Maya adds.

"I don't like surprises," Marianne grumbles.

"_**Liar, liar, pants on fire**_," Dawn and Maya sing. "_**Your nose is longer than a telephone wire! Liar, liar, pa**_..."

"You do know that song is about a cheating girlfriend, right," Marianne asks?

Bog covers his mouth to muffle his laughter as the blonde and redhead stop mid-chorus and look at each other in shock. He probably should correct them that Marianne is referring to the song by The Castaways but their horror at a nursery rhyme being about cheating is too hilarious. Besides, it's always fun watching the ever-energetic Maya be shocked into silence. A.C.'s own laughing blue eyes is all the confirmation he needs to know that his younger brother agrees with that.

"Are you going to tell me what the surprise is now," Marianne questions?

"Patience is a virtue," Dawn chimes!

"Then don't complain when I tell you that tomorrow and for the next five months," Marianne mutters.

"You wouldn't dare," Dawn growls.

"Try me," Marianne threatens before taking a bite out of her fruit kabob.

Their table is consumed with thick silence and Bog takes a bite out of his pulled pork sandwich to keep from laughing at the uneasy looks caused by his wife's gloating smirk. They should have known that they were playing a dangerous game.

"Marianne, dear, be reasonable," Donald tries.

"There's nothing that says that we have to know the baby's sex before they're born," Marianne comments. "We can easily tell the technician that we don't want to know and to keep it a surprise. Surprises are fun, after all!"

"She's your daughter," Annabelle huffs at Donald!

Donald gives a longsuffering sigh before eating his barbecue rib. There are just some things that a man can't win. A sentiment agreed by Loch as he eats his own lunch, ignoring his own wife's pestering.

"Bog...," Griselda starts.

"Marianne is right," Bog remarks. "We have everything we need for the baby and not one of it requires knowing the baby's sex. Well, except for names but that can easily be solved by picking out two names."

"You two can't be serious," Maya groans! "You're going to refuse finding out if the baby is a boy or a girl just because we won't tell you about the car!"

"Car," Marianne repeats?

"Oops," Maya squeaks.

"Way to go, Maya," A.C. mutters.

"I told you that Marianne would find a way to find out early," Sunny laughs. "You guys owe me five bucks each."

* * *

"Wha...what's wrong," Marianne questions groggily?

Marianne squints as Bog turns on his bedside lamp to take a better look at his beeper. She's wide awake in seconds when he throws off the covers and rushes to put his clothes on. He doesn't even bother correcting Dragonfly as the puppy looks up from her place at the foot of their bed.

"Bog," she asks?

"Forest fire," he answers tersely.

The pre-dawn light is just enough to illuminate her horror and Bog pauses in his rush to pull her in his arms. She draws comfort from his embrace and sighs as he runs his hands down her back.

"Don't worry, it's not that bad. It's just like with any accident during winter. We treat even the smallest incident with excessiveness, so that everyone is there just in case they're needed," Bog explains, giving her a kiss.

"Will you be back in time for the appointment," Marianne questions?

She stifles her laughter as Bog's lean form turns rigid at the reminder before he buries his face in her hair with a groan. Her restraint is a lost cause when a muffled "Damn!" is heard.

"I take it that's a no," she giggles.

"A fire of any size creates a ton of problems in all three of my jobs. I probably won't be back until tonight, if I'm lucky," he mutters. "I'll have Maya come over to help with the horses. Don't do anything that you're not supposed to. And both of you behave for Mommy."

Marianne smiles softly as Bog leans down to kiss her enlarged stomach and pets Dragonfly's head before heading out the bedroom door. The puppy jumps off the bed and runs after him, whining as Bog heads out the front door.

Watching from their bedroom's window seat, Marianne blows Bog a kiss as he winks up to her before driving his truck onto the main road. She doesn't bother moving, even as the grey vehicle disappears in the green foliage and the sunlight starts illuminating the forest.

* * *

"Any news from Bog yet, sweetheart," Annabelle questions?

"No," Marianne sighs, sitting down at her parent's kitchen nook. "I texted Griselda but she hasn't heard anything more since Loch reported to Brutus about the fire being contained and that there was no need to evacuate Foret Lodge or Sombreville."

"Well, at least that means that the fire isn't serious, so that's some good news," Annabelle comments, pulling the pizza from the oven. "Now, please go tell your father to leave those trinkets alone and come in for lunch."

"I can hear you just fine from here," Donald laughs, opening the patio door and walking in.

"What are you messing with out there," Marianne asks?

"Your mother came across a store that sold model car kits and bought me...," Donald starts.

"A few. I bought a few," Annabelle interrupts.

"You bought one of every item they had in stock, my dear wife," Donald remarks.

"I may have gone overboard," Annabelle chuckles sheepishly. "I just thought they would be the perfect gift, especially that 1964 Valiant. We had such memories in that car. Remember that year your military contract expired and you came home?"

"How could I forget! That year was definitely a lot like this one, a year to remember," Donald murmurs, washing his hands.

"Ooh! You haven't told me this story before," Marianne mentions with interest.

"Well...," Donald starts.

"It's not much of a story," Annabelle interrupts, her face a dark shade of red!

"Mom, are you blushing," Marianne teases?

"She just doesn't want you to know about our young and reckless days," Donald laughs. "We're supposed to be responsible mild-manner parents. Not an ex-military punk running off in the middle of the night with his freshly-graduated girlfriend to go on a cross-country trip to visit every state and landmark in America. You were definitely conceived somewhere between The Grand Canyon and The Golden Gate Bridge."

"Donald," Annabelle chides!

"What," Donald questions innocently? "That's the abridged version. I didn't tell her that we had to keep one step ahead of your father, who was chasing after us, or that when he finally did catch up, it was only because the old curmudgeon took one look at the newborn Marianne that he decided that I wasn't that bad to be his son-in-law and didn't shoot me with his shotgun."

Marianne laughs as her mother yells at him again and smacks his shoulder. It was as if nothing had changed. Her mother is still the same person no matter where her travels took her and once she returned, everything went back to normal as if time hadn't passed at all.

Then when she left again, everything returned to the way it was with just her, Dad, and Dawn. Strange how that works.

"Marianne," Donald murmurs, grabbing her hand and disturbing her thoughts. "Mom isn't leaving again."

"I know. You said that," Marianne remarks.

"But you're still worried that I'm going to leave next week," Annabelle states, rolling her blue eyes at her daughter's look of surprise. "We may be a dense pair of old fools but we're not that oblivious. I'm not going to deny that I loved traveling and exploring each place I visited. It was incredible, after all. But! I should have realized that you girls weren't taking my absence well and I'm sorry that I didn't notice how hurt you've been."

"Mom, everything is fine," Marianne reassures. "Yes, it did hurt watching you disappear and the not knowing if you'll come home alive but you were right. Dawn and I are grown up and it's not really our business what you do."

"That's not an excuse for ruining your ability to enjoy your birthday," Annabelle mutters. "You shouldn't have to feel ashamed about having a birthday party with me being there when Dawn's party always had me absent and you shouldn't have to be afraid that I'll be disappearing soon after your special day."

"Bog," Marianne sighs.

"He talked to us yesterday morning when you two returned from wherever you two hid on your birthday," Donald admits. "He felt that this was something that we needed to talk about and he knows you well enough that you won't bring it up."

"I had thought that if I had done all this traveling here and now, that then I wouldn't miss out on the important things in my girls' lives. But I have missed out and I realize that now," Annabelle murmurs, taking Marianne's other hand. "I missed out on so much in an effort to not live in fear and regret."

"Mom, it's alright," Marianne reassures. "You're here now. Just in time for your first grandchild, too."

"Speaking of which," Annabelle hums.

"No, I won't tell you the baby's sex and you're not seeing the sonogram pictures before Bog does," Marianne states firmly.

"So mean," Annabelle pouts while her husband laughs.

* * *

The smell of fresh coffee with toast, sausage, hashbrowns, and eggs lures Bog from his dreams and he opens his blue eyes in time to see Marianne walk into their bedroom carrying a tray. He can't help sighing in adoration at her.

There's no denying that he thought she was beautiful before but there's just something about being pregnant that makes her look more radiant. Her skin and hair positively glowed from the sunlight entering their bedroom window, making her appear like an otherworldly creature come to steal him away. Something he'd gladly let her do as long as she kept looking at him with her amber eyes so full of love like that for the rest of their lives.

"Breakfast in bed? Now you're spoiling me," Bog chuckles groggily.

"To quote you, you should be spoiled," Marianne giggles.

Moving to sit up, Bog pauses as he notices the extra weight beside him and turns his head to look disapprovingly at the apricot puppy laying on Marianne's side of the bed. Dragonfly wags her tail happily and lifts her head to lick his face.

"Your own bed, Dragonfly," he orders, pointing to the dog bed.

He tries to keep a stern face as the puppy tries her "begging face" but a small laugh breaks forth as Dragonfly heaves a sigh before getting up to jump off the bed and collapses onto her own bed with another heaving sigh. Such a drama queen!

"You're supposed to be correcting her, too, you know," Bog reminds.

"You can be the stern parent, I'll be the cool one," Marianne remarks.

Any protest he's ready to give is silenced, first with a heated kiss and then with a piece of toast. He raises his eyebrow at the cheeky woman before obediently eating his breakfast, grinning as Marianne tucks herself against his side to eat her own.

"I called Lizzie and told her that we can't make it for the Father's Day dinner," she mentions.

"What? Why," Bog questions?

"Look at the time," Marianne motions. "There was no way I was going to wake you up any earlier with how late you came home last night and how hard you worked yesterday."

Bog cringes as he notices the time on the clock. It's definitely later than he normally gets up. Not really surprising and he almost felt like staying in bed for the rest of the day. He's going to have a mess of paperwork to do tomorrow.

"Lizzie said that it's fine and that she's changing the time of the dinner to this evening since almost every father in Sombreville won't be hungry for a large dinner at noon," she continues. "Even your dad is sleeping in and Griselda said that when she asked Lucille to go to A.C.'s house to check on him, Lucille found him passed out on his sofa."

"After being awake since the starting of his night shift on Friday, I'm surprised he even made it to the sofa," Bog mutters. "Did Maya come over to take care of the horses?"

"She came over a little while ago," Marianne confirms. "She rode her bike since Goblin was having such a fit about Skittles being around yesterday evening. I know he gets grumpy when Fairy is in heat since you won't let them breed for another few years but he was acting up even more when Janice returned the horses in the afternoon and wouldn't tolerate Maya's pony even being near the barn. Did something happen while you were using them at Foret Lodge?"

"I don't think Goblin is going to forgive me anytime soon," he mentions, shaking his head. "Out of all the horses that we used to haul away the cut trees and brush from the burn site, Goblin was one of four stallions and a large amount of the other horses were mares that just happened to be in estrus this week. It was a bit tricky to make the stallions behave but we needed every horse we could use since that area is unreachable by vehicle. So, we paired them with four older mares who've already foaled this year and who wouldn't put up with the younger stallions' antics."

"I feel like I should make a joke about killjoys," she snickers.

"A.C. already made one about it bringing a new definition to being cockblocked. Hey, I was only repeating what he said," Bog defends when Marianne slaps his chest. "Have I told you how much I loved you lately?"

"Let's see," Marianne hums, counting on her fingers. "You sent four texts around dinnertime and you said it six times when you came home before you fell asleep."

"Only ten times yesterday? How could I be so heartless," he tsks playfully? "I love you so very much, Mrs Roi!"

"I love you so very much more, Mr Roi," she purrs, moving to kiss him but covering his lips with her finger at the last minute and glaring at him. "But you're still in trouble. No slang or curse words when the baby can hear you!"

"Plum never should have told you what her first word was," Bog groans.

* * *

The hot water coursing down his back makes Bog hum in relief and he waits several minutes under the deluge before washing himself. He can just hear Marianne singing as she washes the breakfast dishes, the words barely making themselves known over the sound of the water.

He chuckles as he thinks back to that first week that Marianne had stayed at his house around Christmastime. She had shocked him the first time she started singing in the shower and he couldn't tear himself away from listening through the walls, no matter how many times he berated himself for being a pervert. Her voice is just so beautiful.

Drying off, Bog chuckles as he looks into the bathroom mirror and starts shaving off the thick black stubble. Marianne had blushed very cutely when had complimented her singing. In fact, she still does every time he says something and he'd be lying if denied that he didn't do some things just to see her blush.

He pauses mid-stroke and turns his attention to the bathroom door as it opens.

"So, what do you want to do today," Marianne questions?

"The fair in Valeburg starts today and I figured you might like it," Bog mentions, finishing his shaving.

"This is Father's Day, a day for fathers," she reminds.

"And this father would be far happier taking his delightful wife and unborn child to the fair," he counters. "Besides, I haven't ridden in your birthday present yet thanks to the fire rudely interrupting our plans yesterday."

"I still think you knew what they were planning," Marianne mutters.

"I did not know they had bought you the Expedition to replace the Cascada," Bog swears. "They only told me not to steal you away again and promised that it wasn't a party."

"It still became a party," she grumbles.

"Everyone just wants to do something nice for you," he murmurs. "And the party was actually your fault, remember?"

Bog chuckles as his bride blushes at the call out. It was true, after all. Once she had seen the red SUV that Dawn parked in their garage, Marianne had immediately decided that everyone who chipped in to pay for the vehicle had to stay for an impromptu dinner. Which, considering their friends and family, shouldn't have come as too much of a surprise when baby talk and childhood stories started being spread around and grown adults started acting like children. The best part was when A.C. got tackled by Maya and Dawn when he admitted to knowing that Bog and Marianne had gone up to the mountain pass lookout on the thirteenth.

"Maya also brought your Father's Day gift basket when she came over," Marianne mentions suddenly, holding up the cellophane-wrapped basket that he hadn't noticed her holding. "And you were right on Friday. Jasper Roi is perfect."

"What do you...," Bog starts before he notices that taped to the basket are the sonogram pictures of his son.

**Tea Blend.**


	2. Enjoying

**Enjoying**

**Every moment in life is a gift to be enjoyed but most especially the memorable ones.**

The screams of war echo through Foret Lodge's grounds as water balloons fly through the air. Some faithfully hit their targets but others hit trees or open ground. Squeals of panic ring out as some watery missiles fly too far and onlookers dash out of the way at the incoming attack.

"I think the kids are enjoying this new tradition," Loch chuckles.

"It might be a bit difficult to find out who's the winner though," Brutus points out.

"Who cares! I haven't heard one complaint about Sombreville and Foret Lodge's rule of no fireworks," Loch counters. "That makes me the winner."

"Big brother, you're absolutely shameless," Brutus laughs.

"You say that like you're not absolutely relieved yourself, little brother," Loch comments.

Bog shakes his head at the banter, trying to contain his own laughter as he keeps a tight grip on Dragonfly's leash to keep her from joining the fun. He knows as well as almost everyone else that if it wasn't for the fact that his father and uncle are in their work uniforms in preparation for the Independence Day parade that both men would be one of those so-called kids pelting each other with balloons.

He laughs as Sunny manages to dodge a balloon headed toward him with a sideflip before effortlessly throwing the balloon in his hand at the attacker. The younger man definitely has a starting fanbase if all those adoring looks are anything to go by. Unfortunately for one female visitor, Dawn had noticed her overly-appraising eyes on her husband.

"Ouch! I thought Marianne was the vengeful sister," Bog mutters as the woman is pelted with several balloons.

"You don't want Marianne angry," Donald cautions.

Bog, Loch, and Brutus turn their attention from the water balloon war to stare at the somber man. Clearly, the brunette woman must be a terror to behold. A strange thought considering her joyful figure helping to keep the ammunition in great supply but they had no reason not to believe her father. The man must have seen great horror being alone in a house full of women.

* * *

Marianne snickers as the crowds head toward the buffet tables as soon as Bog ends his pre-picnic speech. She's beginning to think that it's a tradition to ignore manners in favor of food at all the holiday dinners hosted at Foret Lodge. Maybe it's because of Bog's reminders about safety and rules that makes the crowds less appreciative.

She gladly takes his hand as he offers it to her but pulls his hand to her lips before he can kiss her hand himself and grins at his flustered look. Just because they have to keep it toned down in public, doesn't mean that she's going to let herself be the only one to blush at subtle affections. He's still a shade of red as they catch-up to their waiting relatives near the buffet tables and she smirks as he blushes further at their mothers' giggling.

"I don't get it," Sunny comments, grabbing a plate. "Why is there a rule of no fireworks when you use them in your Independence Day parade and you have a Firework Festival this evening?"

"That rule is to keep all uncertified personal from using any pyrotechnics at an unauthorized time and at an unapproved location to prevent injury, damage, and death," Thang quotes, beaming proudly at the fact that he said it correctly.

"What he means is that fireworks are only allowed to be used by certain people at a certain time and at a certain place to keep anyone from being hurt and to prevent fires," Stuff corrects at Sunny's confused look.

"That's what I said," Thang mutters.

"I guess that makes sense," Sunny remarks. "If just a little fire like the one two and a half weeks ago could cause such problems, it's kind of scary to think what a bigger one could do."

"In a way, a large firework-related fire would be easier to put out than that small fire the day before Father's Day," Loch mentions.

"Really," Dawn asks?

"A firework-related fire is only caused by hot sparks and flammable material. That fire can be extinguished just by water and removing the damaged debris," Loch starts. "The fire two and a half weeks ago was caused by isopropyl alcohol and vegetable oil. Not only are chemical fires nearly impossible to be extinguished with water but if there's any remnant of the chemicals left, the fire can be restarted with enough heat. That's why we let the fire burn itself out instead of trying to extinguish it. In fact,..."

"Save the lecture for fire safety classes, Darling," Griselda interrupts, pushing his still form. "You'll hold up the line."

Marianne snickers as Loch turn red from collar to ear as he chuckles sheepishly and obediently moves forward. Like father, like son. Bog did take after his father the most, even more than A.C. does.

Sighing happily, she smiles warmly and rubs her growing stomach with her free hand.

"What are you thinking about," Bog questions?

"About how much I hope Jasper takes after his daddy," Marianne murmurs happily.

"As long as he doesn't act like his uncle," Griselda states.

"Hey," Sunny pouts!

"Not you, dear. The other uncle. My son, the troublemaker," Griselda huffs.

"A.C. isn't that bad, Mom," Bog chuckles. "He can be responsible...sometimes."

"He does have his moments," Griselda amends. "Where is he anyway? It's not like A.C. to miss the speech and definitely not when it's time to eat."

"He took Kyle and his group to check the burn site for any new growth," Bog answers. "They may have caused us a lot of problems in the past but it'd be terrible to let them go home still feeling guilty and A.C. figured that seeing the area recover might help them."

"The poor dears," Annabelle murmurs, shaking her head. "Even though it was an accident, the guilt is going to take a while to go."

"I think they're more upset about A.C. almost not believing Carla when she made it to the lodge to report the fire," Thang comments.

"It's a good thing he didn't brush off the alarm as a prank or we may have lost a larger part of the forest than just that two hundred yard radius," Stuff mutters.

Marianne shivers at that thought herself. It really was a close call once all the details were known. With all the work that had to be done, it wasn't until Sunday afternoon that the group was fully questioned and everyone realized just how much worse it could have been.

What had started as tending to a scratch from an early morning bathroom trip had turned into a flurry of panic when Kyle had tripped and the bottle of isopropyl alcohol went into their campfire's hot coals, igniting both the flames and the waking group's fear. A fear that became terror when the bottle of lighter fluid and the bottle of vegetable oil got consumed in the spreading fire.

Loch had praised the group's quick thinking of separating into pairs to soak the surrounding area with lake water to keep the fire from spreading while another pair removed their belongings farther away. The fire chief was especially proud of the fact that despite their troublemaking reputation, they did pay attention to Foret Lodge's fire safety classes. He made sure to tell them that their efforts had prevented a lot of damage in the time it took for their fastest runner to make it to the lodge and for A.C. to return with her on his horse.

They still had to cut down parts of the surrounding forest as a precaution to keep the burning fire from spreading but the area is already recovering with new growth. The forest surrounding Foret Lodge is as tenacious as the people who care for it.

* * *

"These ribs are delicious," Donald hums. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of them even if I eat it every day."

"Your doctor will probably have something to say about that," Annabelle mutters, tapping his stomach and smirking at her husband's crestfallen face.

"The cruelty of getting old. What once was a six-pack is now a keg," Donald bemoans. "How'd you manage to keep the weight off, Loch?"

"Good genes," Loch chuckles. "While most Rois aren't as skinny as Bog here, our metabolism stays pretty high even when we get old."

"Cheer up, Dad, at least you still got a full head of hair," Marianne points out. "Jared is younger than you and he's already going bald."

"I hope I take after Mom's side of the family," Sunny mumbles, running a hand through his thick brown hair.

"Your dad doesn't look bad being bald. He's pretty hot," Dawn giggles.

"That is true," Marianne hums, winking at Dawn. "Best way to gauge the sexiness of a man when he grows old is to check out his father and I say we both picked good husbands."

Marianne laughs as Bog and Loch turn a dark shade of red, made worse when Griselda adds her two-cents of how good-looking her husband was back in the day. The trip down memory lane is halted as A.C. finally makes an appearance and sits down beside Bog with his filled plate.

"Where have you been? It shouldn't have taken you that long to get to the burn site and back," Bog comments.

"I was distracted," A.C. answers blithely.

"Distracted," Loch questions suspiciously?

"In my defense, I was left unsupervised," A.C. smirks.

Marianne would almost believe that she was the only one to get a cold premonition of doom but looking away from her stilled fork, she can clearly see the whole table frozen. Was it a premonition for horror or eternal embarrassment? Who knew? But one thing is sure, when it comes to A.C., it's never a good thing.

"What did you do," Bog asks slowly and firmly?

"Me? I didn't do anything," A.C. answers.

"Let me rephrase that then," Bog remarks. "What didn't you do that you probably should have done?"

She isn't the only one to groan as A.C.'s broad smile becomes wider. Whatever he had gotten into this time could not be good.

"ROI!"

"Oh no! Not him! I was having such a pleasant day, too," Loch groans before glaring at his youngest son. "If you've done something to ruin my day, you're going to be cleaning every toilet in the firehouse and in Foret Lodge every day for the next four weeks. Do I make myself clear?"

"Trust me, Dad, you're going to love this," A.C. snickers, waving his camera for a moment before stuffing it in his pocket.

Everyone turns their attention as Greyson runs into the pavilion entrance, pausing only a moment to look around before running straight toward the Roi family table. It's obvious from his haggard appearance and missing toupee that he's not there to make an annoyance of himself this time. There's clearly something wrong.

"Roi, you have to fix this," Greyson demands!

"Fix what," Loch questions with a sigh?

"They'll ruin everything," Greyson moans!

"I can't do anything if you don't tell me what the problem is," Loch growls.

"You have to get them out of there! Now," Greyson demands!

"Eric," Loch yells, shocking the pavilion into complete silence! "Stop babbling and tell me what the problem is!"

"There are raccoons in my car," Greyson whines!

Was that the sound of a pin drop she could hear? Or maybe that was laughter desperately trying to be muffled?

"Well," Loch coughs, trying to disguise his chuckling. "There are raccoons in your car?"

"That's what I said," Greyson grumbles.

"How did they get in there," Loch asks?

"I don't know. Probably through the window," Greyson huffs. "Just get them out!"

"Didn't you follow the proper procedure to prevent something like this happening," Loch questions?

"Why would I need to? There have never been raccoons around my cabin before," Greyson defends.

Marianne looks to Bog worriedly as Loch's eye twitches in annoyance and his tightened fist breaks the plastic silverware. It might not be a smart idea for the elder Roi's patience to be tested farther.

"Mr Greyson, as you're aware, we had a fire not too long ago and those raccoons are probably searching for new territory as a result of the fire," Bog explains. "Had you followed proper procedure, it would not have been a problem but since you didn't, it's best to wait until near evening to remove the raccoons."

"What! Why," Greyson asks?

"Those animals are nocturnal and will be highly aggressive with them being cornered at a time when they can't see properly," Bog answers.

"Well, I need them moved now," Greyson states.

"We're not distressing poor animals just because you're inconvenienced," Griselda comments.

"I'll sue Foret Lodge for damages," Greyson threatens.

"The contract you signed for that cabin clearly states that Foret Lodge is not responsible for any damage done by wild animals, especially when you do not follow proper procedure," Loch counters, taking a bite of his potato salad and ignoring the fuming man.

"I'll sue you," Greyson tries.

"On what charge," Loch scoffs?

"I'll sue you for...for...well, I'll think of something," Greyson blusters.

"Need I remind you that even if any court will take the case, your wife won't like the publicity," Griselda murmurs, smirking as the gaunt balding Ken doll pales further. "Bad for business, you know. I can just see the headlines. Rich blue-blood sues ex-fiancee's husband because raccoons disturbed his summertime getaway with three young female companions! My, my, doesn't that sound like a tabloid thriller."

"But I need those raccoons gone now," Greyson whines! "Shelia will kill me if I'm not there for the meeting."

"If only, if only," Griselda mutters, taking a bite of her fried chicken.

"There might be a way to remove the raccoons without distressing them too much," A.C. mentions, ignoring the glares from his parents.

"Do you mean it," Greyson questions hopefully?

"Well, I had noticed your dilemma as I was passing your cabin on my way back from the burn site," A.C. admits. "With your car being kept under a carport, it might be possible to place tarps on the sides to darken the inside and lure the raccoons out of the vehicle. Might be possible, anyway."

"If you get those raccoons out, I'll...I'll...I'll never come back to Foret Lodge again," Greyson swears!

"I want that in writing," Loch demands!

"Hallelujah! Miracles do happen," Griselda cheers!

**Tea Blend.**

**For the record, I had planned to have three black bears in Greyson's car in honor of a Facebook post my mother had come across several weeks ago but after much research, I realized that it wouldn't be plausible for the story I wanted. Raccoons aren't a pitiful second choice, though. The little jerks got into my freshly-planted box garden in May and ruined my cantaloupe and watermelons. Everything else survived the assault and the deterrents I put up seem to be working, so I didn't take my Border Terrier/American Foxhound hunting (though, he has been glaring at the pine trees across the road during bathroom breaks at night).**


End file.
